


Sow the Wind, Reap the Whirlwind

by Akiradrabbles



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2020-08-14 02:42:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20184928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akiradrabbles/pseuds/Akiradrabbles
Summary: "And he tries, he does, but the flames burn brighter than any fighting spirit he’s ever been able to muster and they grip him, billowing around his head and curling up his sleeves. He feels it’s heat, feels the burns and blisters forming on his skin and dragging him down to where he belongs. "





	1. The Principle of Paradise

Caleb watched with wide eyes at the smoldering corpse before him, the skin crackling and bubbling and the hair on top of the wolf’s head beside him burning to non existence. He lets the memories wash over him like a tidal wave and doesn’t fight the strangled moan that leaves his lips. 

He was distantly aware of the ongoing battle around him - his friends ( _ friends? When did they ever become that to him? _ ) voices becoming muted and muffled to his ears and his vision blurring at the edges, instead being filled with endless flame and agony. The snow around him falls down to the forest floor in thick sheets, and the wind blows flurries of cold air that carry the thick stench of flame and death and rot. He tries to pull his conscience back towards his body - tries to ground himself in the current moment ( _ this is  _ no _ time to be doing this, Widogast. Shape up, Widogast. Be alert, Widogast. Your mind is your downfall, your mind is tearing you apart. You must learn to  _ overcome _ - _ )

And he tries, he does, but the flames burn brighter than any fighting spirit he’s ever been able to muster and they grip him, billowing around his head and curling up his sleeves. He  _ feels  _ it’s heat, feels the burns and blisters forming on his skin and dragging him down to where he belongs. 

And the screams come, too. 

What was a rumble in the deep forest of his mind explodes, becoming an avalanche of sound. His dear parents; his kind parents. They scream as the fire surrounds them, burning their hair and melting their skin and tearing away at everything they were and could have been. His mother begs for her life and his father asks  _ ‘Why, Bren? Why did you do this? What did we do to deserve this?’  _ ( _ And while Bren knows exactly the answer, Caleb can’t begin to fathom what it is. _ ) This orchestra of agonizing sound serves as Caleb’s internal and forever hell, his punishment ( _ it’s not enough, it’s never  _ enough) for the sins he committed and got away with. ‘ _ Every action has a consequence, Bren. You must be prepared for that.’  _

Ikithon taught Caleb some things, after all.

But sometimes he forgets.

The screams of the past meld with the screams of the present, and Caleb’s mind, cloudy and foggy and far away from  _ right now,  _ can’t discern one from the other. ( _ Consequences, consequences, consequences-)  _ Everything is a mush of information and he can’t force himself to pick through it all, to complete this puzzle inside of his brain. 

He pushes himself up from his position on the ground (when did he get here?), knees digging into the ash and snow that piles around him. When he tries to stand, something grips his leg with an iron fist and yanks until he crashes down to his knees again. 

He’s finding it increasingly difficult to breathe.

That monster can’t swallow him up now, not _ now _ . He knows that that creature that gnashes its teeth at him behind closed eyes and feigned ignorance is not a harm to just himself, but the others that surround him ( _ Who’s the monster now, Widogast? _ ) and open themselves up to his chaos and destruction. He was going to end up killing them if he didn’t  _ get a grip _ , if he didn’t stand up and fight. Yet, as he attempted to summon the flame that both haunted and liberated him, his nightmares became real and his thoughts harrowed him. 

A thunderous scream became his everything as he stumbled to his feet as the creature, a stone giant that towered at a near 20 feet and wielded a mammoth club, above him spotted the remnants of his late companion. It’s eyes, wide with disgust and alight with a fury that Caleb feared, met Caleb’s icy blue ones as its head reared toward him. Its mouth was filled with large teeth that gnashed at him, and it raised its mighty weapon over its head. Caleb had a near moment to summon his shield, it’s arcane energy sparking into existence, as the blow rammed down upon him.

He quickly began to prepare his next spell, a drop of molasses smeared on his finger tips and brought to his lips, but his movements were proven panicked and clumsy ( _ I thought you knew better than to let your guard down, Bren _ ) as the giant swung once more, and this time connected. The stone club smashed into the side of Caleb’s head and sent him reeling, falling down upon the snow on the ground with a grunt of pain. He saw Beauregard, a good sixty feet off from him, catch his slip with a panicked jolt. She was still engaged with a pair of snarling wolves. Her mouth opened as if she were to yell at him, but he was struck once, twice more by the club and he found that the whole world was screaming, not just her. His vision blacked in and out and back in again, and his breath came out is gargling gasps.

Caleb had always wondered what death would be like. He was not a religious man in any way - the Gods never helped  _ him  _ in his times of great despair and need, never gave him any indication that they were ever really there and gave him no reason to lay down devotion towards their cause - and that was fine by him. But would the Matron of Ravens greet him at death's door? Would she halo her devoted Champion as he picked him up from the ground? Would he be granted eternal peace? Would he see his parents again? Did he even deserve that?

Or was he condemned to live in an agonizing hell, reliving his sins over and over again for the rest of existence? ( _ Oh, Bren, you know that I don’t make the rules _ .) Perhaps that was was he deserved. He had nothing to complain about, anyways, for he forged his own path and suspected that this might be the outcome. Sow the wind, reap the whirlwind. ( _ It’s what you deserve, it’s what you deserve _ ) 

And Caleb can remember a few things: The way that smoke billowed high towards the sky, surpassing the mountain tops and creating a canvas of grey, how the blood on his ( _ side, head, arms, legs, everywhere everywhere everywhere- _ ) felt sticky and wet and smelled distinctly of iron and rot, how all the sound in the world cut out and became muffled. All the sound besides the yelling of one Nott the brave, his  _ geschwester, _ as she shrieked his name, Caleb, Caleb, Caleb, and all he could think was that he was so proud of her, and so happy that she knew him not as Bren Aldric Ermendrud, a faceless man lost in the rare whisper or tall tale, but as Caleb Widogast, her friend, her wizard, her savior-

Her son.

Nott stopped in her tracks as Caleb’s form slumped and went still, and she jolted again only when the giant screamed and swung the club down once more upon his body, sending blood and something more splattering onto the pristine snow and staining it red ( _ red, red, all she could see was  _ red-) She desperately tried to reach for her crossbow, dropped to the ground at some point, and run forward so that she could reach her boy, her boy who was hurt, who was injured, who needed her  _ help.  _

The hand that grabbed her arm and tugged her back a few feet was a familiar one, but she couldn’t fight the urge to bite at it as she desperately raced to rescue her kin. As she turned with a snarl, teeth bared, she was met with Beau’s ragged face. Tears were swimming in her eyes, both widened with shock and grief.  The giant behind her continued to swing down.

Over the thrumming of her own heart, Nott could hear Jester’s screams of horror and Fjord’s disbelieving voice yelling for a retreat. “No!” she didn’t even know that tears were streaking down her cheeks until she heard the sob that accompanied her words, “Fuck you! I have to, I have to go help him!”

“Nott,” Beau mumbled, and Nott could hear the regret seep through, “there’s nothing left…”

Shaking her head as the beginnings of a snarl formed in her throat, Nott wailed, “No, no, no, no! Jester can, can- Or Caduceus! They can bring him back!”

A large paw, one that belonged to Caduceus, set itself on her shoulder. Hate filled eyes turned to glare at him, yet they withered at the sight of his face, calm expression only offset by eyes that held regret and an apology. 

“Fuck all of you! I’m not leaving him!”

Behind them, the giant, seemingly satisfied with the mess it made, rose and stood at its full height. It’s breathe came in ragged gasps that shook its whole body and made it quiver. Rage was still evident in the way it stood, the way its eyes scrunched and glared, the way that the fist that gripped its weapon was stark white and shaking. They all knew that the moment it’s thoughts came back to the rest of them, it would be only a matter of seconds before it would be upon them once more. 

“I don’t think Caleb would want this for you, Nott.” Caduceus’ voice rumbled to his throat, “Caleb wouldn’t want you to throw your life away for nothing.”

Nott’s hand clenched around her crossbow as she ripped her body away from Beau’s grip and Caduceus’ comforting touch, “How dare you say it’s for nothing. How dare you say he is  _ nothing _ .”

“Please, Nott.” Jester whined, “Please please we can’t lose you, too.” 

A thunderous roar and a resounding bang that shuddered the earth shook Nott from her stupor. She glanced behind her to see the stone giant, risen to its full height, glaring at their group with a hunger in its eye. Caleb’s broken and bloodied body had been smashed a foot beneath the ground, and the giant, satisfied, wanted more. “We have to go.” Fjord demanded, and the group reluctantly began to turn on their heels.

Nott knocked back a bolt into her weapon and raised it to level between the creatures eyes. The giant took its first step forward and began to make its way toward them.

Nott stood where she was. No one was allowed to hurt her boy and live to see another day.

She waited until the monster was a good ten feet away from her and steadied her shot. She was going to kill this thing. She was going to kill it and then she could get to Caleb. She was going to, going to-

Before she could release the bolt, strong arms wrapped around her body and hoisted her into the air. Yasha, a rage set within her eyes, scooped Nott into her arms and turned her heel to run the other way. Nott screamed and kicked and scratched and sobbed, but Yasha held fast and tight. She was not going to lose another companion that day. ( _ She had already lost so much. _ )

They had all lost so much. So much today. So, so much within their lives. With nothing to do to recover what had been lost and destroyed, they fled. They fled with regret weighing heavy upon them. With grief curled in their hearts and hurting their heads. 

And above the cold, red-tinted snow and a body unmoving and still; above the heads of a group one smaller, fleeing with red-rimmed eyes, the sky opened up with a cry of pain and began to weep. 

  
  



	2. Through the Blinds (for the other side is mourning)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loss is hard. And when you've lost so much, it's harder to know how to move on.

The air had been brittle that day, cold and biting and ever so fitting. The whole world, to them, to the Mighty Nein (_ not anymore _ ), seemed as bleak as they felt. The sky in Rosohna was still it’s dark blacks and purples, and the storm that had begun a day ago ( _ How could it have only been a day? It felt like a lifetime. _) had persisted through the night and into the meat of the day. For all it was, it seemed as if the heavens were mourning with them. 

Jester came through the kitchen door, sniffling and rubbing her red, itchy and swollen eyes, before wrapping her arms around her torso, cradling herself. “How was she doing?” Fjord questioned from his seat at the table, a cup of ale being nursed between his palms. 

“Not very good.” Jester conceded, “She would hardly talk to me. I think she was trying to pretend that she was sleeping.” A new round of tears swam to the surface of her eyes, and Jester attempted to knock them away as they trickled down her cheeks. 

Beau, sitting across from Fjord, sighed. The way her breath hitched made it known that she had been crying. If Jester was honest, this was the first time she had even seen Beau since the accident, and the bloodied bandages that were wrapped around her knuckles told Jester all she needed to know. “Can we even blame her? That was completely fucked. I don’t think I’d want to be socializing if I were her.” 

“Do you need some healing, Beau?” Jester asked, “I can-” Beau was quick to push her hands into her lap as Jester reached forward. 

“No.” Beau was blunt in her response, but softened slightly as she lowered her gaze, “Thank you though, Jessie.”

Jester nodded a bit before she folded her hands into her lap. For a few moments all is silent in the room, save Caduceus in the kitchen preparing a kettle for tea. Suddenly, a low whine escapes from deep in Jester’s throat as she begins to sob. Yasha, who was a few feet away, leaning against a nearby wall, arms crossed, startles slightly and her hand hovers above her weapon that was strung across her back. “Oh, you guys,” Jester’s voice was muffled with tears that seemed to race endlessly down her face, “What are we going to do?”

“What is there we can do?” Fjord coughed, “I mean, I wish…”

Caduceus, who entered at the sound of Jester’s cries, looked down-trodden as he spoke, “All we can do is be there for Nott. Our pain is here, and we can’t ignore that, but we have to let her know that we are here for her.”

“But what if she leaves? What, what if she doesn’t believe us?” Jester’s anguished cries became choked as newfound sobs from the depths of her lungs make themselves known.

The table shook as Beau slammed her fist upon it, sending two empty kegs crashing to the ground and causing Fjord, whose hands were wrapped loosely around his cup, to steady his shaking mead. “Then we try to keep her here! It would be stupid to leave now, especially after what just happened. We need to all be here for each other!”

“If I may,” Caduceus rumbled, “We can’t force Miss Nott to stay if she feels unsafe and uncomfortable here. We have to support any decision she makes. We are all allowed to mourn Mister Caleb’s death, for he was taken from us unfairly and too early, but this isn’t about us.” The silence, save for Jester’s soft sniffles and hiccuping sobs, echoed throughout the room. Caduceus heaved a great sigh, and his voice lowered to a soft whisper, “This isn’t about us.” (‘_ This isn’t about you’, Caduceus lay his mighty paw upon Caleb’s shoulder and bends his form down, not crowding but comforting. He can see the tears welling up over the smaller man’s eyes and threatening to spill over. Caduceus remains calm and understandable, but Caleb’s agonized expression pulls at something in his chest and he just wants that to _ stop. ‘ _ You aren’t the problem. You are the solution.’ _) 

Beau slumped in her seat with a soft curse escaping her lips, and her head found itself nuzzled in the palms of her hands. In, out. In, out. In through the nose and out through the mouth. She hated the feeling of helplessness that plagued her and made her feel small. This wasn’t a problem that she could solve using her fists, the only weapons she knew of in her arsenal. She couldn’t punch away the guilt, or sadness, or remorse. She couldn’t fight these demons physically because they were all in her head, in her memories. Caleb was gone, and she had no divine power to possibly bring him back. If only-

If only she could have done more.

But praying for hope and praying for a miracle were only just prayers. And sometimes, the Gods were too busy (_ too selfish, too above her _) to care to help someone whose devotion lied elsewhere. Beau was not someone who would openly cry out for the aid of a higher being, but that did not mean that her thoughts did not linger around the possibility. 

The possibility that he could come back to them as if nothing had ever happened, as if he hadn’t been pushed ten feet under without a care in the world. Gods, the image was still in her mind. She was stuck in an endless loop of agony, a hell that wished to swallow her whole. She saw his arms, filled with scars and littered with memories. His eyes, left permanently saddened and hardened, reflecting the images of abuse and distrust. His hands that traced incantations time and time again. His mouth that spewed facts and magic and the damn time in that soft-spoken, Zemnian laced accent. She could see his face, and then she couldn’t.

She was gone before the tears began to fall. 

\-----

Nott had nothing. 

It seemed as if the world was quite intent on taking away everything she loved, everything that makes her smile and allows her heart to continue to beat. 

Yeza sat across next to her slumped form on the bed, and laced his hands in hers. The guilt crept up the back of her neck when she couldn’t bring herself to do the same to him. Her eyes flickered towards the porcelain cat figurines that littered _ his _desk, all in various positions and different sizes. She had been surprised the first time she had entered his room to see a small cat by his bed, a little brown tabby that grinned from ear to ear. Nott remembers the warmth that had fluttered throughout her chest at the sight. Soon, his whole desk was filled with them, cats smiling and sleeping and stretching and sitting pretty. And if she had passed that information onto the Nein before the lonely, smiling cat had been gifted newfound friends, no one would ever know.

“Veth.” 

She tried to shrug off the soft shaking of her husband’s hand upon her shoulder, but he persisted. “Veth.” She turned her head slightly toward him in an attempted suddle response, and Yeza sighed softly. “You need to eat something, Veth. Just a little bit. It’s nearing over a day since you ate last.” When she gave no further indication of replying, he shifted, “Please?” 

“I’m not hungry.” Her voice cracked, hoarse from disuse. 

“Veth.”

Bristling, she went to turn from him again. “Please don’t, Yeza.” 

A few moments passed before anything was said again. The two of them sat in silence, save for the clock that absentmindedly ticked from its placement on the wall. Nott spent several moments staring at the hands that spun in circles, never ending, and she couldn’t help the dry chuckle that left her lips. “What the hell did he have this thing up for anyway? It’s not like he needed it.” The sting of tears sat upon the edge of her eyelids. Quickly, and angrily, she blinked them away.

“I’m going to go see if Caduceus can help me to make some tea for us. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?” 

She let him go without a word of protest. 

And just like that, Nott had nothing again. Her boy was gone, and she had no idea where to go from here. Her light had been snuffed out just like that, and there was no way for her to bring that fire back. She was not smart, not brave. Just Nott. 

And being Nott, right now, right here, was not good enough. It’s never been good enough.

She laid her head back against the pillow (_ and tried to ignore the potent smell that was without a doubt Caleb. She would know. He smelled like leather and musk and to her, happiness. She despised how all anyone would ever mention was the dirt. The mud. The stench. _) Caleb was more than that. He had always been more than anyone had bargained for. His life had been so precious, and she cursed the Gods for taking away a life so valuable. Why couldn’t it have been her instead?

Closing her eyes and ignoring the sting within them, Nott was left with merely the thoughts in her head and the ticking of the clock.

\------

_ “I know that it didn't go very well, but this is our new family, right? So we want the family to stick together.” _

_ And Nott grinned, nodding. “Of course, Caleb.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Hello! Thanks for all the feedback everyone!! It's very appreciated!
> 
> (SLIGHT SPOILERS) And I know that when we found out about the porcelain cats it was after Yeza went with Luc BUT I felt compelled to leave it in there. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

_ When the lamp is shattered, _

_ The light in the dust lies dead; _

_ When the cloud is scattered, _

_ The rainbow’s glory is shed; _

_ When the lute is broken,  _

_ Sweet tones are remembered not; _

_ When the lips have spoken, _

_ Loved accents are soon forgot.  _

Essek arrived at the Xhorhaus two nights later, a frown upon his lips and impatience ( _ Worry? Perhaps worry as well. But impatience nonetheless)  _ sitting within him, bubbling within his chest, masking what he thought might be that constant concern that was deep in his gut. 

He thought it rude that his time was sorely and unfairly used up following Mr. Widogast’s failure to attend their weekly lesson the previous day. Essek himself had many other, better things to attend to ( _ The Bright Queen was always asking for more. For more power, more input. Always more _ ). It was not as if Essek had all the time in the world to wait upon others who don’t appreciate him and his apprehension of time. 

( _ “Mr. Widogast.” Essek acknowledged the human man as he knocked on the dark oak frame of his office’s open doorway. “So kind of you to stop by. It is nice to see you.” _

_ “Likewise,” the heavy accented Caleb Widogast stepped through and into the room, his cat following close at his heels. Frumpkin, spying Essek’s form rushed forward and leaped onto the desk, butting his head against the elves lapel, purring. “It seems as if he missed you.” Caleb gestured toward his cat and stepped closer, pressing his hand upon the creatures head. _

_ Essek, following suit and letting his hand graze Caleb’s calloused ones, laughed. “It seems so. I hope he wasn’t the only one?” _ )

Approaching the spectacle of a house, Essek couldn’t help but admire what they had done with it. The large oak tree towered high above the already large mansion and the other surrounding buildings. Small twinkling lights, much like stars, were stringed along the window and door frames, glowing bright like stars that the darkness allows to be seen. He reaches the door and raises his hand to knock, faltering as his mind begins to scream  _ don’t go in don’t do it you’ll regret it. _ The resounding noise of his knuckles rapping against the wood, however, startles those thoughts away.

Usually, generally, he would be greeted within seconds of making his presence known, but as one minute, two minutes, three minutes rolls around, he is still alone on the stoop. He almost lets himself believe that perhaps the Nein truly aren’t here, but his mind ( _ “You are one of the most intelligent men I have ever had the honor of knowing,” he smiles coyly at Caleb from his position across from him at the table, and relishes in the dusted pink that spreads across the man’s cheeks. “No one can pick up dunamancy as quickly as you. Not even myself, I’m afraid.” _

_ Caleb laughs and shakes his head, looking down at the spellbook in front of him. “You are quite, uh, flattering, Shadowhand, but I think we can both agree that my mind just can’t surpass yours.” _ ) screams at him that they aren’t, they can’t be. He knocks once again, this time harder, the panic ( _ Why are you panicking? Nothing is wrong _ ) setting in. 

Just before he reaches down to open the door on his own, the handle turns and the door itself creaks open, slowly, and reveals Jester on the other side. Essek immediately spots her red eyes and puffy cheeks, swollen face. Once Jester notices him standing at the top of the steps, she lets the door swing open to the fullest extent and she steps back, her hand going over her mouth and covering it. “May I speak to Mr. Widogast? He missed his lesson yesterday, and-” 

He was left speechless as the blue tiefling in front of him, whom was always so happy and bright and radiant, sniffled and then sobbed, trying desperately to stifle it with a sleeve. 

“Oh, Essek…”

_ As music and splendor _

_ Survive not the lamp and the lute, _

_ The heart’s echoes render _

_ No song when the spirit is mute:-- _

_ No song but sad dirges, _

_ Like the wind through a ruined cell, _

_ Or the mournful surges _

_ That ring the dead seamen’s knell. _

Essek sits on the couch in the living room, across from Beau and Fjord and next to Jester, who he knows is sitting near him for comfort that he does  _ not  _ need. Caduceus leaves him a cup of steaming tea, which sits on the table in front of him, untouched and quickly becoming lukewarm. They explain to him what happened, what transpired, the last time they left the city’s walls. They tell him that they didn’t mean for it to happen, that they don’t know what to do. 

Fjord tells him that they plan, once (and if) Nott is up for it to head back to where it happened so that they can try to recover the body ( _ “What’s left of it.” Beau says, and that leaves a sickening ache in his stomach that he hides behind a stoic face. _ ) or, at the very least, Caleb’s things. They figure that it's the least that they could do _ .  _ ( _ And Essek wants to yell that the least they could have done is keep him alive, be a little more careful and get their heads out of their asses- _ )

“I think I need to report what happened to the Bright Queen, just so she knows. If you will excuse me, I will be taking my leave.” Quickly Essek stands and, with a brush of his palms against his cloak to smoothen it, he turns to leave. Jester is upon him in an instant, frantically calling his name.

“Essek! You don’t have to go yet if, if you don’t really want to! You can stay the night, it’s getting kind of late, anyways, so I’m sure you would really really hate to have to walk home now. So-"

He pushes her outreached hand away and doesn’t fight the slight growl that escapes his lips, “I’m quite alright. Now, if you will  _ excuse me,  _ Ms. Lavorre.” 

_ When hearts have once mingled, _

_ Love first leaves the well-built nest; _

_ The weak one is singled _

_ To ensure what it once possessed. _

_ O love! who bewailest _

_ The frailty of all things here,  _

_ Why choose you the frailest _

_ For your cradle, your home, and you bier? _

Essek gathers his composure outside of the living room, before he begins to head toward the front of the house. His mind is a whirlwind of pained thoughts, and he can feel a sting behind his eyelids that will _ not  _ turn in to signs of weakness. He refuses to let that happen. He  _ refuses  _ to lose himself like that. 

“Mr. Thelyss.” The deep baritone from Caduceus startles him, if only a little bit. Essek huffs out an airy grumble and turns toward the towering firbolg, frowning. 

“Yes, Mr. Clay? What is it.” His tone, while he keeps it even and doesn’t allow it to waver, comes out more biting than he had wanted. 

Caduceus steps closer, but at the same time keeps his distance and waits, a pondering look spreading across his features. He opens his mouth, closes it, and settles for a mere “I’m sorry.” Essek can tell just from the sound of his voice that he means it, and that it is the most sincere utterance he has heard in a long time. Yet it seems that the words, while having good intentions laced within, stir something within him, and he feels a rage bubble deep in his gut. However, he won’t let himself feed into that temptation. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Mr. Clay.” he begins, and pushes through that deep-seeded pain. “No need to worry about me. I’m alright.” Caduceus continues to stare as if he can see through his words, knows he’s lying. But before the firbolg can say anything more, Essek turns and hurries off, out of the house and into the cool air of the night.

For now, Essek Thelyss must maintain his facade, but later, behind closed doors and away from prodding eyes and questions he can allow himself to break, if only for a little while. 

_ Its passions will rock thee,  _

_ As the storms rock the ravens on high; _

_ Bright reason will mock thee, _

_ Like the sun from a wintry sky. _

_ From thy nest every rafter _

_ Will rot, and thine eagle home _

_ Leave the naked to laughter, _

_ When leaves fall and cold winds come. _

  * Percy Bysshe Shelley

\----------

_ (Caleb huffed out what might be seen as a laugh, letting his hand linger upon Essek’s for only a moment, “No.” he conceded, looking down at the drow man through the tips of his lashes, “No, perhaps he isn’t.”) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait for this chapter!!!! I was having some slight difficulty, especially since this is the first time I've ever written Essek. So, truly, I hope I have given him justice (づ｡◕‿‿◕｡)づ
> 
> With that being said, I really do love Essek. So much. And I'm pretty lenient when it comes to shipping, so you can believe me when I say that, while I love him and Caleb, he isn't the only person I ship with Caleb. BUT! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ
> 
> I know this chapter is a bit, well, jumpy. As in, it jumps around a lot. HOPEFULLY this doesn't make it difficult to read. If you need any clarification though, just ask!! 
> 
> Well, that's it for my notes I think. Leave me comments! Tell me what you think so far! I love hearing from you guys :)


	4. Author’s Note

Hello, everybody!! It’s so great to be back on AO3 again after all this time, but I think I’m ready to be back into the swing of things.   
  


Things have been hectic lately to say the least, for the good and the bad, and time has really been speeding by me faster then ever. In between getting ready for college and DMing an on going weekly (sometimes bi-weekly!) D&D campaign is fun, yet stressful. But as of recent I’ve been thinking back on some of my old stories and even writing new ones! I’ve forgotten how much enjoyment I get from writing. I decided to hop on here and I was reading through some comments on this story and I decided that I needed to continue where I left off. I‘ve got some fun ideas and I’m so excited for you guys to read them!   
  


Hopefully I’ll be updating you guys with a real chapter sometime this week. A big thank you to everyone who has stuck around these past months. Your continued support means so much.   
  


With the state of the world out there, please be safe and stay as healthy as you can. It is times like these that we all need to stick together.  
  


And with that note, have a great rest of your guy’s weeks! I am so excited to be back. Much love!

AkiraDrabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Bidet, Critters! Thanks for reading! Tags will be added as the story progresses.


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